January 4, 2008
Life has been a whirlwind lately.
We're currently in the process of finalizing a town for Jared's practice, finding suitable office space, choosing a house, trying to secure a part-time gig for Jared, deciding whether or not to accept a job that's been offered to me, and gaining eight pounds. I'm still without a cell phone, I've completely run out of clean underwear, and come to think of it, I have no idea where my child is right now. I don't think I've seen him since Tuesday. I kind of miss the little guy.
In the midst of all of this chaos, the blog has fallen by the wayside, and I can't even remember which details I've shared with you about our recent move to New England. For example, did I tell you that I peed my pants laughing at a Blue Collar Comedy CD in Knoxville? Or did I write about Jared and I perfecting the Mockingbird song (think Dumb & Dumber, folks) by the time we hit West Virginia? Or wait--here's a good one--Did I already write about the fact that we paid big bucks to have our '89 Blazer shipped from Texas to Connecticut on a tractor-trailer truck? I don't think I did.
But now that I've shared those personal tidbits with you, I know exactly what you're thinking: Didn't it cost more to ship that Blazer than the car is actually worth?
Well, yes you stank-ass-smarty-pants, it did. If you want to nickle and dime it, my good old SUV is worth roughly sixty-eight dollars. But if you're more like me, and you measure the worth of goods in emotional memories, then my Blazer is priceless. In my last ten years--college, marriage, ten moves in four states, etc.--my car has been my constant, reliable companion. She's never left me stranded, and I love her more than I love my husband. Seriously.
When it came time to plan the move, Jared and I both understood that the Blazer would have a hard time making the voyage on its own merit, so we coughed up the cash and had it shipped.
When I dropped off the car at the shipping company, I slipped the guy a five dollar bill and whispered, "Merry Christmas. Try to put it on the top, okay? I don't want anything dripping onto its roof." He looked at me, he looked at the car, and then he looked back at me. "They'll never let me do that," he said. "We put the nice cars on top. But thanks for the tip."
And then, as I held back my offended tears, the guy said, "Walk around the car with me. We have to make a note of every dent, ding, and scratch on the body of the vehicle." So off we went, stepping slowly, as he scribbled, and noted, and drew in his notebook. Twenty minutes later, he ripped off the carbon copy, handed it to me and asked, "Did I miss anything?"
Here is a photo of the actual carbon copy:
Sweet wheels, huh? Check it out, he colored in the entire roof!
The Blazer arrived yesterday, and I'm pleased to report that there are no new dents, dings, or scratches. It looks just as crappy as it did in Dallas, and I'm so glad that it's home.